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Megan Kathleen

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    http://econofoodie.blogspot.com

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    The Hostile City
  1. What fun! I'm so glad Henry and I went last night. Thanks to Pedro for organizing and hosting the dinner (and for "weathering" the associated stress so well). I'll leave the details to Luigi. The food, the wines, and most of all the company and conversation were well-enjoyed. Hope to see everyone again soon!
  2. I've got your "empowerment talk" right here. I home-cook like whoa- I even have a little project-diary blog about it- and I'm not repressed on any level or in any way dominated by my (male) partner. I'm also an aggressive, workaholic overachiever. Until recently, Henry and I worked opposite schedules, and I still cooked a lot. Now I'm back to cooking almost every day. This is my choice; it is my passion and my gift to the people in my life. For the most part, the ideas in the excerpted article are poison! Sure, there's a half-hearted attempt by the writer to redeem herself and a strategic dropping of some Michael Pollan ideas at the end, but the net result of my having read the thing was aggravation. I'm evolved, sexy and creative, both in and outside of my own estimation, and I'm not going to sit for some wack reporter telling me otherwise. One doesn't need a "third-wave feminist" agenda to know BS when one sees it. That's just one of a few petty, catty swipes in this article. Negativity sells newspapers (and credit cards, and other things), plain and simple, and there's no basis in reality for these notions. Who's anachronistic now? This is 2008. And talking trash about "the rise of foodie culture" is so last season. As far as "being able to cook" goes, let's remember the point of the fine feature film Ratatouille: "Anyone can cook." It comes from the heart, and indeed it means more than ever in our era of intense scheduling and eating on the go. I do not need a man to determine my merit in the kitchen any more than I need a man to put and keep me there. I don't need a glint in my eye, as I know how to season my food, and I don't want to be "a relic" anyway. What an insult. PS. Anne, you're awesome. Cooking is an act of love, don't ever apologize for it!
  3. Small menu; I get the sense it changes frequently. I had a rad roasted sweetbreads and lentils dish with frisee when I was there, and a killer lamb porterhouse. Not exotic by any means, but conscientious, well-informed food with a pleasantly refined creativity and technical strength. That's what I like. And it does meet your definition of cozy, in my estimation. And, hey, it's okay to be picky! I, too, have a hard time deciding where to eat, especially when I'm choosing for other people. I feel like I can explain what I want, but I know it might take a while, so I usually end up walking around and counting on knowing it when I see it. Not an option in freakin' freezin' February. I dug Central Kitchen. I know it's been around for a while and might be old news to Boston heads, but I wanted more or less what you do and my friend the super-waiter got it right.
  4. I'm not a local, so my $0.02 might be in fact worth less than that , but how about Central Kitchen? It's on Mass Ave., right off the T at Central Square (Cambridge). Last time I was in town, I went there with a friend who, like me, works in the restaurant business and another couple; we had a great time. The wine list is, IMHO, thoughtful and reasonably priced, as is the menu. "Adventurous" is kind of subjective, but I was more than pleased; the food was creative without being overly aspirational, which to me suggests focus and diligence. As far as the "cozy" factor, I felt a genuinely warm, positive vibe in there. I plan to go back next time I'm up that way, and I recommend it without hesitation.
  5. I recently quit the same way Toby has- Chantix (it works) and behavior modification. It's been right around four months. My general attitude toward life has improved as a result; whether this will have a lasting effect on my palate remains to be seen. I haven't noticed much of a change in my own experience of "restaurant food." It's been (and stayed) like this: whatever it is I'm eating, I like my food to taste like itself. Some things just need more salt than others toward that end. I have no problem tasting salt in a dish, but it does frustrate me when the discretion required to properly season one or two components of a plate isn't realized, especially in an upmarket place. Habitual, aggressive-defensive oversalting is a problem, however. It remains far more worrisome to me than either chronic undersalting or unwitting/overenthusiastic oversalting is. I know it when I taste it, as I expect most of us do. I'll stay out of the realm of conjecture, as it (demonstrably) may or may not have to do with cigarette smoking, and merely say I'm glad I've encountered it infrequently in my professional experience, as the accompanying contentiousness (in 100% of the cases I've observed) is no good for nobody.
  6. I'm the only person who cooks in my home kitchen, aside from the occasional snackmaking that goes on when I'm at work. Sparing unnecessary expenses is a big part of how I challenge myself as a cook. It's awesome: for example, I like buying AOC butter that costs an astronomical amount of money since I decided to forgo the silicone hand mitts. Here are the professional tools that I use at home and elsewhere, most of which were gifts from loved ones, all of which have made cooking much more efficient and fun for me: This addition is overdue: a big, heavy chef's knife for versatility and for cutting through bones and the like. The point upthread about cleavers is well-taken, and I have not found that I can do everything I want to with a santoku. I also need a good, professional bread knife. My cheap, two-piece bread knife scares me. I just haven't found the right knives for my purposes at the right prices yet. Not that I've been looking as hard as I should be. As pans go, I have a 10" or so cast iron (for deep-frying, sauteing, baking, frittata-ing, roasting a chicken, everything), a sheet pan, two saucepans, two stock pots and a big, old, very-heavy-bottomed wide and shallow stock pot from which I stripped the handles and use as a rondeau. My wish list here is limited to an omelette pan, a Le Creuset Dutch oven and one of those rectangular cast-iron pieces that sits on two burners on the stovetop, ideally one that has a grill on one of its sides. Got some other tools that I consider invaluable: Microplane grater (and spare blades), cheese plane, chinois, tamis, Silpats (which changed my life), a ton of wooden spoons, big tongs, little tongs, big whisks, little whisks, rolling pin, electric hand mixer, fish turner, assorted metal bowls, plastic spatulas for baking, immersion blender. That's seriously it. And it still sounds like a lot to me! I'd love a mandoline, but I get by. That being said, there is so much in the way of awesome stuff out there. If only I thought I'd ever use any of it. I consider myself lucky I'm not much of a gearhead by nature. I will say Williams-Sonoma and Crate and Barrel catalogs make great bathroom reading/daydream fodder, though.
  7. Guilty as charged. I'm a lot of things; doctrinaire and puritanical are not among them. As far as knowing too much about how it's produced goes, one can't forget that countless man-hours and tons of money go to the continual development and optimization of the fast food tractor beam. No one is safe. I can resist it for the most part for a reason I'll get to in a minute, but every now and again McDonald's sucks me in for a sausage biscuit and two hashbrowns. It's especially tempting if I'm up visiting my family and feeling nostalgic for this treat from my childhood. What makes it the worst is the extent to which I feel like a hypocrite when I wash it down with coffee from the travel mug I fill as many as 4 times a day, after balling up the staggering amount of trash that had swaddled this insidious, sneaky little pleasure and stowing it anonymously in the nearest can. The worst is when all this happens while I'm tuning in to the headlines on the public radio, you know, because I care so much about the world. Booooo. Every time is the last time. Until it happens again. The sausage always disappoints me; it's mealy, greasy (go fig) and gross, never as good as I remember it. What's up with those milky, opaque chunks that are hard to chew? And the tiny red spots? Is that paprika? Hmmmm. All this, but I eat it anyway. The biscuits rule. I wish I could just get those with my hashbrowns. My own breakfast Extra Value Meal: Carbs Two Ways. Every time I eat this food, I feel like my entire digestive system is having a seizure. Can one build up one's tolerance to this stuff by eating it more frequently? Not that I'm planning on it; I'd be better off eating it on the toilet as it is.
  8. Ah, I am reminded of a certain storefront joint by the name of Peking Inn. (Guess one can work up an appetite checkin' out the scantily-clad hipsters upstairs.) Sandy, you are too funny. The Ack-uh-mee: perfect.
  9. My buddy has a dog named Kuma.. he says it means "bear" in Japanese. I'll hasten to inform him of the.. other meaning. A few favorites from Philly: Way out on Lancaster Ave. going toward Overbrook, there was/is a restaurant called "Let's Wok Fried Chicken and Chinese Food." I think there was/is another on Girard Avenue toward the river. (Though I suspect these are all over, they make me laugh every time. Their fried chicken's pretty good, too.) Henry claims to have passed by a certain "Kuk Il" Korean barbecue somewhere in North Philly. His slant: "If they get sick from their own food, there's no way I'm eating there." There's a cafe called "Ants Pants" 'round here as well, which for me conjures up ancient memories of picnics gone awry, though the community is assured that it's Australian slang for "top notch"/"hip"/"cool." Every time I bike by, I miss "Fat Daddy's," a short-lived spot in my neighborhood.
  10. Six of us shared a big pot pie on Saturday night. We served it with a big green salad, and it met unanimous approval. One of my friends was confused; having misread the box, he thought it was a quail pot pie. I suspect I could eat a small one on my own. Chase the dogs out, pop that little thing in the oven, fire it up 'till it's bubbly, crack open a brew and chill. We like their chicken sausages, too. Next on my list: hand pies. (Suddenly, the bag of pretzels on my desk looks so sad.) Yes, road trip to Griggstown. I, too, would be happy to drive; I can fit four others in my ride with plenty of room for the goods.
  11. Can do, easy! Naturally, I can't be sure if Twenty Manning is particularly suited to a "man" dinner, but it's in the name. Got a few special menus for you to look at, too. PM/email me for more info.
  12. Yep. I drafted this big long manifesto about what I think about all that, then I decided to spare you all. Viva la backspace. As a lifer in the business, I think that the institution of tipping is fractured and dysfunctional for many reasons, not a few of which have been laid out already. The way I see it, either restaurants must start maintaining standards of service from the top down, as some have by incorporating a service charge into each check, or they will continue to pass responsibility for that onto their guests, perpetuating all the problems folks have elaborated on upthread. Tipping is, by its very nature, discretionary. A guest should never feel obligated or be compelled to tip. Counting on guests' generosity to pick up management's slack is one poor incentive for the staff to meet, let alone to exceed, expectations of service. What an insult: to the guest, to the server, the chef, to everybody. Practically speaking, it might be to one's "advantage" in the short run to "hide" one's income by working for tips, and to the "benefit" of a company not to pay its staff, but transparency and excellence in service- that which, along with food, makes a restaurant last- don't come from an irresponsible, hands-off business and management style that encourages petty hustling, low morale, and confusion about the role of the guests. I try to look at the bright side, though, by doing the best job I know how to do because I want to, and by rewarding my similarly-disposed brethren and sistren in the business when I encounter them: I tip HUGE at bars, especially if I stay for a while. At restaurants where I am or am hoping to become a regular, I tip 25 to 30 percent. They appreciate me- I appreciate them. I tip marginally on take-out, but never when I get my own coffee. I tip the change if my travel coffee mug is filled. My experience in coffee bars has shown me that jingle adds up and should not be thrown in the trash. (Besides, isn't that illegal?) I tip a dollar for a specialty coffee drink, three if it's free. I tip massively on pizza delivery; my dogs, though harmless, sound off to strangers. If I receive a comp while dining in a restaurant, I tip handsomely (25 to 30 percent) on the original check. Do not, under any circumstances, "auto-grat" my check. I will freak out. When it comes to buffets, I, like Bourdain, prefer to be on the serving side of them. If you're a jerk, you get stiffed.
  13. Friends, that shot is seared onto my brain. I was raised in a supermarket- my dad was a store director in a few different places around this area while my sister and I were coming up- and I've seen some gnarly stuff. Nothing on the order of pee pee pretzels, though. That is next level; if ever I encounter its equal, I do not want to know. Yeah, man. It's not that bad in there, especially in light of some of those tales from the past. It's a big job to keep such a busy place clean! It's just that it's.. grubby in a lot of places, and the tables are often dirty. It bums me out when I go to pack my purchases up in my bike bag at 5pm on a weekday before riding home and I can't find a clean table to sit at. With the slick new RTM marketing campaign on and all, I'd like to see them step it up a little. But I eat boogie moneyfinger samosas, so it's safe to say I'm not that worried about it.
  14. Paw paws.. as I said a while back, I'm into them, too. To thwart the hard-to-eat aspect, Sam advised me to try peeling them and squeezing the fruit through cheesecloth- the stones are left behind and most of the good stuff comes through. If my imagination didn't deceive me last time, Nanee's Kitchen is now offering a salt lassi. I dig the cardamom one, so I can't wait to try it! I am also pleased that the rice and dal side is available there once again, as it is IMHO one of the best quick snacks in the market. When I'm trying to figure out what I want to make for dinner and I'm too hungry to shop straight, it's just the thing. I missed it so when it went away, and I hope its comeback will aid me in my quest to resist their incredible samosas at least two-thirds of the time. (So far, it is not going very well.) I got a fat basket of figs from OK Lee on Monday for not a lot of money. They don't have the pedigree the Fair Food ones do, but they rocked in the tart with Bee Natural's orange blossom honey that I made during the lame Eagles game.
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